There's something about a twilight walk that just makes me tingle (in a good way, to be sure). This evening I couldn't see any stars in the cloudy blackness, but there were one or two smudged glow-lights behind the clouds which at least suggested something akin to stars, and that delicious, balmy wind blowing out over the fields made up for the lack of sparkle. How can I expect many cloudless days in an Oregon March anyway? I can't.
But today wasn't all grey rain and cold air - it was actually very nice outside. I slept in late after an evening out, had a nice morning with my family, went into town with my big sister whose birthday we are celebrating today, and went on a gorgeous walk to my hilltop. There I sat on an old green gate, had a picnic lunch with myself, and read a book ( The Story Girl, by L.M. Montgomery) while curled up behind the shelter of a big row of blackberry bushes. I know, brambles don't seem like a perfectly relaxing spot to rest, but they weren't so bad, and were a nice barrier between me and the wind. I also wrote a letter to myself ( which I will read again and laugh at sometime in the faraway future) and almost fell asleep in the sweet gold sunshine of the lazy afternoon. But I didn't quite; instead I came home and had another lovely evening with almost all of my family together, here at the house on the hill.
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